THE HERB-LEECH

I have gathered luss

At the wane of the moon,

And supped its sap

With a yewen spoon.

I have sat a spell

By the carn of Medb,

And smelt the mould

Of the red queen's grave.

I have dreamed a dearth

In the darkened sun,

And felt the hand

Of the Evil One.

I have fathomed war

In the comet's tail,

And heard the crying

Of Gall and Gael.

I have seen the spume

On the dead priest's lips,

And the “holy fire”

On the spars of ships;

And the shooting stars

On Barthelmy's Night,

Blanching the dark

With ghostly light;

And the corpse-candle

Of the seer's dream,

Bigger in girth

Than a weaver's beam;

And the shy hearth-fairies

About the grate,

Blowing the turves

To a whiter heat.

All things on earth

To me are known,

For I have the gift

Of the Murrain Stone!